


When the Moon Hits Your Eye That’s Me, Punching You in the Face

by PartlyCloudySkies



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Diary/Journal, Enemies to Friends, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-27 01:12:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18293822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PartlyCloudySkies/pseuds/PartlyCloudySkies
Summary: Within are highly classified military secrets concerning the observations of Lieutenant Penumbra of the Earth invader Della Duck. Subjects include alien interrogations, planetary security, movie nights.





	When the Moon Hits Your Eye That’s Me, Punching You in the Face

# 

Contained Herein are the Transcripted Audio Records of the Highly Classified Thoughts of Lieutenant Penumbra, Defender of Planet Moon, Conqueror of Dreaded Lunar Beasts, Five Time Consecutive Tranquility Chapter Moonopoly Champion

### 

_UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS WILL BE PUNISHED TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF MOON LAW, WHICH BEGIN AND END ON THE KNUCKLES OF MY FIST -- PENUMBRA_

**MISSION REPORT TRANSCRIPT**

**LT. PENUMBRA:** It has been one full revolution since the inferior Earther scum has been detained by our expedition. I say detained, even though she hasn’t been cuffed, or interrogated for her knowledge, or had her mugshot taken. I tried to get her fingerprints but the General wouldn’t even allow that. But he has remanded her to my custody, and that’s as good as being detained! My eternal vigilance is unwavering! My superior Moon training is more than a match for any potential subterfuge on the part of this Moon-hating spy. Soon I will —

_(An extended gap of silence is recorded here)_

— I have returned. I have not noted this before, but we will have to keep in mind that Earthers can jump quite far. A consequence of differing gravitational environments. I swear I only had my back to her for a short while then suddenly she was halfway across Tranquility trying to eat a Moon Reed at a florist’s shop. She said it looked like a… a… some absurd Earth food I can’t even be bothered to remember. I told her that it would be literally impossible for that to be the case, and that the plant was, in fact, toxic. She said she didn’t care if it was made of knives and filled with acid, anything was better than — what did she call it — ah, “black licorice.”

I can only conclude she is delusional from having been stranded on the unfashionable side of the planet for so long. Either that or we will have to make an update to the dietary practices of Earthlings in our strategic profile.

What is “black licorice” anyway?”

**TRANSCRIPT ENDS**

———— 

**MISSION REPORT TRANSCRIPT**

**LT. PENUMBRA:** While on duty, I witnessed the Earther write a message on some paper, wrap it around a rock, and then attempt to _throw it at the Earth_. It flew quite high up before it fell back and landed on her organic foot.

I know I called her a dummy before, but I might actually be dealing with an idiot.

Or it could all be an act… I cannot take anything for granted when the security of my people is at stake.

**TRANSCRIPT ENDS**

————

**MISSION REPORT TRANSCRIPT** :

**LT. PENUMBRA:** I have submitted a formal letter of protest to my superior officer that General Lunaris has unnecessarily hampered the scope of my mission parameters. Since General Lunaris is my superior officer, his reply was relayed to me immediately and in person. I believe his exact words were “no” and “absolutely not.” While I will abide by his orders, I do not see the cause of the objection. I was only going to autopsy the Earther a _little_ bit.

Attempts to glean actionable intelligence from our prisoner have met limited success. She mostly talks about going back to the Earth. Were it my choice I’d be more than happy to send her packing, but the General clearly has other plans. He won’t let me lock her up in an interrogation room so when I question her I have to take her to a cafe across the street from my domicile. I am well-trained at debriefing enemies of the state no matter my surroundings, plus I know the area well and I’ve mapped out all possible escape routes so this is a sound tactical decision! The caffeinated stimulant beverages they serve are also brewed in a satisfactory manner.

On one occasions when she was rambling, she paused and looked up at the Earth, her hands tightening around her cup. I leaned anticipating that she was on the verge of breaking and confessing all the Earth’s secrets to me, but she went on about her offspring instead! She asked me if I think they’ve grown up to be as tough as she is. How should I know? I’m the one asking questions here! And they’re not questions about her Earthspawn!

Upon saying as such to the prisoner, she became withdrawn and would not look up from her beverage. Further questioning produced only a bare minimum of response. This was unacceptable behavior and would get us nowhere. And so I told her that, assuming her offspring did not drown in that absurd amount of water the Earth has, then it is likely that they became formidable warriors. By Earther standards, at least. For what else could be said of the direct descendants of someone who could quell the temper of the most dangerous of lunar wildlife?

It was the only rational conclusion, yet her morale seemed lifted as if it hadn’t even occurred to her, the foolish alien. Her spirits recovered, she even laughed at my comment about the Earth having too much water and telling me that I was “totally right” — which of course I am! Still, it was… pleasing to have the Earther corroborate my assertion. It prompted me to continue this line of attack.

What followed was the most brutal takedown of the Earth’s many failings. I insulted the constant cloud cover. How is the Earth supposed to see its enemies coming if its own atmosphere keeps getting in the way like that? The prisoner responded positively. I then said that she and her kind must dehydrate quickly, if they need that much water. It’s an easily exploited weakness. Then she told me that most of the water on the Earth isn’t even drinkable! Insanity! Nevertheless, it is vital intelligence. By and by, the Earth’s secrets shall be ours.

**TRANSCRIPT ENDS**

———— 

**MISSION REPORT TRANSCRIPT**

**LT. PENUMBRA:** She appears to have no trouble adapting to Moon food, which is good because we’re not about to accede to her laughable demands to “put in an interplanetary call to deliver pizza.” I do find it amusing how she complains that this “black licorice” she keeps chewing continues to contaminate everything she eats. Perhaps it is not such a chore to keep meeting with her.

**TRANSCRIPT ENDS**

————

**MISSION REPORT TRANSCRIPT**

**LT. PENUMBRA:** The Earther has escaped her holding cell. I suspect this is in part due to the fact that her holding cell has no posted guards and she has the key to the door and the General has given her free reign of the city. This despite the fact that I printed out a copy of our protocols when keeping prisoners — even going so far as to highlight the relevant passages — but to no avail. The General has doubled all patrols and organized search parties. I am leading one of them. I shall continue this report once our fugitive is back in custody.

**(RECORDING ENDS)**

**(RECORDING RESUMES)**

I am in the wastelands. My crew has split up to cover ground quickly. Can you believe that she told me that ancient Earthers thought there were oceans here? Sea of Tranquility? Ha!

_(Transcript records an extended pause punctuated only by footsteps, presumably LIEUTENANT PENUMBRA walking through the wastes.)_

Earthers are so stupid. Now that she doesn’t have her ship she won’t last long out here without me. Stupid Della had better be stupid alive.

**(RECORDING ENDS)**

**(RECORDING RESUMES)**

Report continues now. I have found Della. All praise to me. Though truth be told she hardly made it difficult. With patrols in Tranquility heightened there was only one place she could go. I found her at what remained of the crash site of her primitive Earth ship. I assumed she was attempting to assemble a weapon of some sort as a means of resisting our absolute power. But she was just salvaging mementos of a sentimental nature. She already has that picture which she insists on carrying around, looking at, showing to the nearest stranger and so on. But there is apparently more. Is this an Earth thing? Do they routinely carry around family memorabilia when they’re intruding on neighboring planets? Seems dangerous.

Anyway, the additional salvage included a few small objects and two books. One was apparently written by the engineer of the Earth rocket ship. The very same engineer who built an engine that runs on gold which, if I am to understand, is considered a rare mineral on the Earth. I told her he couldn’t be that smart, considering that oxygen or hydrogen makes more sense as rocket fuel and is in abundance on their world. She seemed to enjoy that.

He is also apparently responsible for this “black licorice” she complains about constantly. She offered me a sample, having recovered it from the crash site. I can now say without hesitation that the Earth has some crimes to answer for. That Della has been living with this taste in her mouth for all this time is a testament to her strength of will.

The other book was something called a “Junior Wood…” something or other. What even is wood? What’s important is that the book is some kind of wilderness survival manual. Apparently it is given to Earth children at a young age and it teaches them to avoid death in the untamed wild. Finally, an Earth practice that I can approve of!

I am reminded of my own survivalist training back in my days as a raw recruit, barely an adult. I would fend off the wildlife, fashion a camp from my surroundings and capture prey by hiding traps inside craters. It could get lonely at times but I always powered through like a soldier should!

But sometimes I would look up at the Earth and it would almost — almost — feel like a companion. Perhaps at the same time, Della, somewhere in her own wilderness, looked up at her sky and saw my Moon and felt the same.

It is a… comforting thought.

It is also _SENTIMENTAL NONSENSE_! Gah! Her Earther idiocy is affecting me! I need to stomp out these foolish notions, I am already late for our interrogation session at the cafe.

**TRANSCRIPT ENDS**

————

SUPPLEMENTAL REPORT:

**LT. PENUMBRA:** Listening to my previous report, I am disturbed by how I refer to the Earther by name. This cannot stand. I refuse to allow myself to be endeared to her. My pride demands it!

**TRANSCRIPT ENDS**

————

**MISSION REPORT TRANSCRIPT**

**LT. PENUMBRA:** It has been one revolution since my previous entry and — 

_(There is crosstalk. Transcription is interrupted by a second voice. Voice print program has identified it as belonging to DELLA DUCK.)_

**D. DUCK:** Hey Penny! Whatcha doing over there?

**LT. PENUMBRA:** What are you — this is a restricted area!

**D. DUCK:** Whaaaaaat? No it’s not. It’s your kitchen. At least… is this your kitchen? That looks like a microwave. Is it a microwave?

_(There is the sound of a mechanical beep, followed by a high-energy discharge and a smoke alarm.)_

**D. DUCK:** Okay, NOT a microwave. How is it burning like that? It’s not as if there’s oxygen here.

**LT. PENUMBRA:** You are a walking _disaster_. Stop touching my stuff! Everything you touch you destroy!

**D. DUCK:** That’s not true. Oh, hey, now _this_ looks like a microwave!

_(A mechanical grinding noise is heard, followed by raised voices. There is a burst of static, then the recording abruptly falls silent)_

**(RECORDING ENDS)**

**(RECORDING RESUMES)**

**LT. PENUMBRA:** Okay. Let’s try this again. Continuing my report. I have been forced to relocate to the secondary debriefing room —

**D. DUCK:** Which is the front room!

**LT. PENUMBRA:** — following the destruction of my primary debriefing room.

**D. DUCK:** The kitchen. And I’m very sorry about that, by the way.

**LT. PENUMBRA:** …I should explain. The Earther’s holding facility has — 

**D. DUCK:** Pfft. What? It’s not a “holding facility.” It’s a room right above the workshop I’m building my spaceship in. It was nice! It had a bath! Do you know how long I’d been without a bath when we met?

**LT. PENUMBRA:** I had a pretty good idea, yes.

**D. DUCK:** Ha ha! Yeah. Anyway, that place burned down. Don’t ask. Laser welder accident. Spaceship and workshop are still good, though. Probably structurally unsound but also, probably not? I was willing to roll those dice but Loonie — 

**LT. PENUMBRA:** _General Lunaris_. 

**D. DUCK:** — got all wound up and wanted me to stay somewhere safer. So, now we’re roomies!

**LT. PENUMBRA:** We are _not_. This is a temporary arrangement. 

**D. DUCK:** Hey, it’s fine. It’s not like I’ve never couch surfed before. This is gonna be so much fun.

**LT. PENUMBRA:** You will not have fun while in my custody!

**D. DUCK:** Too late! Come on, girl, I’ve already planned out our movie night, makeover night, Taco Tuesday — I know you don’t have Tuesdays or tacos on the Moon, that’s okay, it’s a state of mind, we’ll make it work — and, of course, game night! Just so I know what I’m getting into, exactly how competitive do you get over, say, charades? Or board games?

**LT. PENUMBRA:** Fool! Do you not see my trophies?

**D. DUCK:** Well, can’t be worse than Scrooge.

**TRANSCRIPT ENDS**

————

**SUPPLEMENTAL REPORT**

**D. DUCK:** She’s worse than Scrooge.

**LT. PENUMBRA:** Get your hands off my intelligence reports Earther scum! You couldn’t defeat me in games so now you’re stealing my secrets?

**D. DUCK:** Sorry! Say, do you think I could get one of these audio journal things?

**LT. PENUMBRA:** It’s not a journal! It’s classified information!

**D. DUCK:** Ha ha, yeah. I used to call my journal that too!

_(Sounds become unintelligible, device is deactivated)_

**TRANSCRIPT ENDS**

————

**MISSION REPORT TRANSCRIPT**

**LT. PENUMBRA:** I have barricaded myself in the tertiary debriefing room. It has been half a cycle since Della has been quartered here. She settled in well enough and we have worked out some ground rules that she must respect or I will destroy her.

Her… activity nights are acceptable. They are contests of skill or strength, but sometimes they are also cultural exchanges. “Movie night” is especially interesting since Della is eager to share her taste in Earth cinema. She has cobbled together a primitive receiver that intercepts Earth signals. Much of Earth’s cultural artifacts are obviously inferior, but I do appreciate the ones where people fight a lot, and Della seems to enjoy them as well. So. She is perhaps not a complete loss.

There are occasions when a news story breaks and sometimes it will be about her children and how they broke some ancient Earth curse or discovered some puny Earth monster or exploited Earth creatures to deliver fruit-based beverages for a pittance of pay.

Most times Della will simply smile with pride and tell tales of her family’s exploits conquering her world. But there are moments where she gets teary-eyed, says things such as “my boys,” and becomes sad. Such foolishness! As if she had consciously decided to maroon herself on an alien world! It is one thing to feel sad but it is another to wallow in it! She should instead take stock of each creature or object responsible for those feelings! Create a list! And then brutally and systematically conquer each one until the only emotion she feels is victory!

I am unsure if victory is an emotion, but if it is not, it should be.

Anyway, I said as much to Della and though she seemed to take my words into consideration, she said that it wasn’t exactly possible for her to punch the 240,000 Earth miles that exist between her and her family.

I confess even Moon science has not yet achieved the ability to assault the fabric of space itself.

I have always confronted my own problems head-on, but I suppose I have only ever chosen to face problems that I could punch or shoot. From the obstacle courses in basic training to the lunar beasts that roam the wastes. I suspect Della is of a kind, if her stories are to be believed. And now she has a problem that cannot be solved by annihilating it with her bare hands.

If I were in such a position, I would be… sad as well.

Perhaps activity nights are her way to deal with this frustration. She works tirelessly on her rocket ship by day and returns here at night to… “braid” “hair”. Which is a thing that my people do not have.

Speaking of which, she has confessed to disliking having her hair so long. Apparently it was much shorter in the past. What is even the purpose of hair? Seems like foolishness to me. The only purpose it seems to serve is aesthetic. When I said as such, she asked me if I liked her hair long. Of course I did, otherwise I would not have said it.

For this, she jabbed me in the rib with her elbow, which I have learned earlier is not a sneak attack, but a sign that I said something she appreciated. Earthers are strange.

Soon her living space over the workshop will be repaired and she will return there. I will make sure to let her know that despite this we may continue these activity nights. Even if they are ridiculous. 

Another addendum: Della informs me that wood is some kind of plant that her people sometimes build structures out of. Plant structures? I always said the Earth was crazy.

_(Here, the Lieutenant’s debriefing is interrupted by a series of muffled knocks.)_

**D. DUCK:** Penny? You gonna be done with the bathroom anytime soon?

**LT. PENUMBRA:** Yes, yes, I will be out shortly.

**D. DUCK:** Well come on! Unless you’re too much of a Moon chicken to face me in an epic battle of Moonopoly!

**LT. PENUMBRA:** Fool! You will suffer defeat by my hands!

_(Lieutenant Penumbra’s footsteps can be heard retreating from the recording device and then the sound of the door closing. The device remains recording during which there is heard the sound of two voices, at times speaking, sometimes yelling, laughter, several explosions followed by shouts of alarm then more laughter. It continues in this fashion until the recording device runs out of memory.)_

**TRANSCRIPT ENDS**


End file.
